


The Color Blue

by dreadpiratewatson



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Harry, Bottom Eggsy, Child Abuse, Child Death, Domestic Fluff, Eggsy as Galahad, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Harry Hart Lives, Harry as Arthur, Hartwin, Hurt Eggsy, Hurt Harry Hart, Lots of Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mild Smut, Not Harry or Eggsy, Reunion Sex, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadpiratewatson/pseuds/dreadpiratewatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't like the color blue. </p><p>But he is so damn lucky that Eggsy's eyes are green.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Color Blue

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING** This fic has a trigger warning for child abuse, the death of a child, and there isn't a tag for this, but abuse of an LGBTQ+ character. Read with caution, my lovelies, I want you to all be safe! 
> 
> And with that out of the way, HELLO HARTWIN FANS!
> 
> So, this fandom has taken over my fucking life, and I've been drowning in it since I saw the movie, plus, I've been awake for 48 hours, living on energy drinks and fanfiction, and this is the product of that!
> 
> I got the idea for this at two in the morning, with just the words in the summery, and decided to write it, so I hope it's good! I'M TRYING MY HAND AT SMUT FOR THE FIRST TIME, SO PLEASE BE KIND. I'VE SCARED ENOUGH AS IT IS. And for any of my Johnlock readers who are like "um, hey, Stevie, where are our updates, it's been months", I SWEAR TO YOU, YOU WILL HAVE AN UPDATE BY TODAY OR TOMORROW. I have a lot to own up to, so I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> But anyway, I hope you enjoy my first Hartwin fic, and if you like it, I have many, many more in mind. 
> 
> And as always, for my past readers and any of my new ones for this fic, I love you all, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Stevie

Harry Hart doesn't like the color blue. He never has. 

Everyone always likes blue the best, it's always everyone's favorite color. Of course, he can appreciate the color, he knows the regal value of it, he knows that it's one of the colors in his flag, so it has political value, he knows what it means for weddings, religion, science, he understands the color's value, but that doesn't mean he likes it. Because he doesn't. To him, it's a boring color, an ugly color. 

Merlin says he's picky. Harry really just doesn't like blue. 

**_________________**

As he was a boy, he watches baby-faced Georgie Kensington burn his favorite toy in the fireplace, and when it catches, the fire turns a furious shade of blue. He watches in tears as it melts down, all while Georgie whispers in his ear about how blue fire is the hottest kind of fire. (Years later, he will find out that white fire is actually the hottest, but he still hates blue fire.) 

He never understands why Georgie is so cruel to him, or why he had to burn his toy, but on that day, he decides he hates the color blue. 

**_________________**

The day before his ninth birthday, Harry's grandmother passes away. Bernadette Rosalie Hart, a beautiful, strong willed woman who read  _The Adventures of_ _Huckleberry Finn_  as a teenager and thought it amazing, who cried when Sherlock Holmes took his fall (she cursed Arthur Conan Doyle for years for that little stunt), who shunned her parents for thinking poorly of the Newsboy's Strike of 1899, who stood with the Votes for Women movement that Emmeline Pankhurst lead (which pissed off her father greatly), who was part of the Women's Royal Air Force in it's short time in existence (where she met and married Harry's grandfather William Hart, an RAF pilot), who loved music and theatre and the royal ballet, which she passed onto her grandson, died alone on the floor of her bedroom where the stroke took her. The maid had been the one to find her the next morning. 

The funeral is a few days later after his birthday, which he chooses to celebrate in his room. Harry cries like a baby, and no one, not even his uncle, who despises weakness in boys and punishes them when they cry, tells him to stop. No one dares. His sister, Julia, who's twelve at the time, slides her arm around his shoulders, and allows him to cry into her dress. 

When he walks up to say his goodbyes, he takes one peek inside of the casket, and has to run outside before vomiting on the pavement. 

Those idiots, the stupid morticians had dressed his grandmother in a blue gown, when everyone knows that her favorite color is purple. Knew. Was. Whatever. The dress is hideous and gaudy and above all, it's  _blue._

Harry hates the color blue even more now. 

**_________________**

When he's thirteen, someone at school breaks into the classroom in the middle of the night and paints the teacher's walls blue. They don't find out who had done it, but someone blames Harry, and, of course, the school administration believes them. 

He's sent home for a few days suspension after having to clean and repaint, and while his parents don't yell and get angry, they talk to him about the ridiculousness of his actions, and treat him like an irresponsible child until he's allowed back at school. 

**_________________**

"Do you think we'd be kicked out if they knew?" David says from above Harry, his hand pausing as it threads through Harry's hair. 

His blissful, post coital mood is shattered and he looks up at his boyfriend with anxious eyes. 

Though becoming more well known and talked about, homosexuality had only been legal for about nine years, and it was still considered a taboo subject. Harry's didn't know about his attraction to men, and David's parents were just as bigoted and hateful as the politicians were, and the Harveys' make it very clear where they stood. They didn't try to hide it. It's a constant struggle for David to keep his sexuality hidden from his parents, but, David's house the only place far enough away where they can feel safe. So, after school, while his parents are away, the two sneak back to his house, and they enjoy a few hours of alone time in David's bed before they have to part. Sometimes, they make love, sweet and slow, sometimes they fuck ruthlessly, like it's their last time together, and sometimes, they don't do anything but kiss, just electing to lounge about in bed, skin against skin, in each other's arms. Sometimes, that's what they need most. 

David looks troubled, and Harry wants nothing more than to wipe the look away. He pushes himself upwards onto his knees and brushes a dark brown lock of hair out his boyfriend's face. "You shouldn't be thinking about that. Besides it won't matter in a few years, once we go off to Uni, you'll be free of them. They'll never have to know." He tries. 

"But, if they find out before then? Do you think-" 

Harry silences him by gripping the sides of his face and pulling him in for a passionate, but desperate kiss. He needs David to stop thinking. He needs David to be strong. He has to be. 

David makes noise in the back of his throat, and tugs at Harry's shirt to bring him closer, which Harry, of course, grants. 

They pull away from one another after a few moments, and when Harry opens his eyes, David is smiling. "I love you." He whispers. 

Harry sighs happily. "I love you too. So stop thinking about awful things, and let me love you." He murmurs before pulling David in his arms once again.

They're too distracted in their moment to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, nor the sound of the bedroom door being opened until it's too late. 

The next thing Harry hears is the booming of Mr. Harvey's raging voice, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears when David pushes him off of the bed and out of the way of the screaming man. David runs to shield Harry's body on the floor, when Mr. Harvey grabs for his son who is  _begging for Harry's safety, of all things,_ and grips his throat before launching him into a corner and kicking him repeatedly in the stomach, the chest, the legs, anywhere his feet will reach, all while David says nothing, and doesn't even bother to say anything against him.

Mr. Harvey doesn't stop. He delivers another kick, directly to David's face, and the sight of blood makes Harry's heart drop. 

 _"Stop!"_ Harry screams as David vomits a mouthful of blood on the floor. "Stop, please, you're going to kill him!" 

 _"Good."_ Mr. Harvey snarls back, and kicks again. 

Harry runs forward and tries to pull Mr. Harvey away, but the man pushes him back to the floor, screaming hateful slurs that don't even touch Harry's skin as they hit him. 

"Harry, get  _out!"_ David yells from the floor, and Harry takes one look at the expression on his face, and for whatever reason, he listens. He doesn't even bother to grab his coat from the chair, and he runs. He jumps through the open window, and drops to the ground below, feeling something in his ankle pop, but he ignores it as he runs as fast as his body will allow him to. It's a long way home. 

Halfway to his house, he stops running, as his ankle is screaming in sharp protest. It's raining now, raining heavily, and it's freezing out, but Harry barely feels it as he wraps his arms around his torso and continues to walk. He doesn't feel anything. Not really. He tries not to think about David, lying on his floor, bleeding, hurting, his father looming over him, screaming at him... It made him sick to even think. 

It's dark when he finally gets home. His mother takes one look at him, envelopes him in her arms, and he begins to weep. She asks him for everything, and he told her the truth. Everything. His mother held him and cried while his father raged on about calling the police on Mr. Harvey for what he did. Harry begs him not to, he wants to see David first, and his father tries to reason with him, but he does not allow it. Eventually, Harry wins, and they let it go. 

Harry doesn't even attempt to sleep that night. 

**_________________**

The next time he sees David, it's three days later, and the middle of the night, in the gardens outside of Harry's house. Harry didn't expect David to come to him so quickly, but he takes one look at the ink colored blue and black bruises that lay waste to his ex-lover's face, and his eyes fill with tears. 

David's face crumples, and he reaches out for Harry, but quickly pulls away as Harry wipes at his face. "I'm so sorry, Harry." David drawls, his vice still husky and rough. 

Harry shakes his head, but says nothing. 

David nods-with effort, of course, his face is still swollen. "I'm leaving tomorrow. My father is sending me to boarding school. He's making sure I won't see you again." 

It doesn't come as a surprise to Harry, though it still hurts. It feels like a hole has been blown through the center of his chest, and he has to try very, very hard to not throw his arms around him. He knows it would only make matter worse. "David..." He tries. 

"Don't you dare apologize, Harry." David cuts him off with a glare, sounding choked up. "Don't you dare. He didn't hurt you, that's what matters." 

The scariest thing is that he sounds like he means it. 

It twists around in Harry's stomach like a poison. "But he should have never hurt you. I should have done something, I should have-" 

"Stop it." David bites back. 

Harry does as he's told.

They don't speak again for a moment, they just stand against the brick wall of Harry's home, the silence creeping up and nipping at their ankles like herding dogs, and they're the sheep in the field. It's not until David clears his throat and pushes himself off of the wall that the real weight of the situation falls down on Harry's shoulders, and he takes one look up into the heartbroken, watery blue of David's eyes, like he's seeing them for the last time. He lets David kiss him goodbye, a soft, chaste press of the lips, then he watches with his heart on the floor as David walks out of his life forever.

**_________________**   


That night, he dreams of blue eyes and a loving smile, and wakes up with tears staining his pillow.  

**_________________**   


Seven years later, he sees a photograph of Lieutenant David Harvey on a memorial wall, right next to a photograph of David's lovely wife and two daughters whom he left behind in the war. They have the same blue eyes as their father.

Like a coward, Harry turns away. He's not sixteen anymore after all. 

**_________________**

As a Kingsman, he learns to appreciate the color blue in suits. It's a beautiful color, and according to both Leodegrance and Dagonet, the only actual tailors in the shop (when they weren't using Dagonet to tie recruits up to traintracks, of course), it works well on him. He doesn't necessarily like the color, though after a while, the colors stop mattering. One can't be picky in Kingsman.

**_________________**

_"Galahad!"_ Merlin shouts in Harry's ear as he runs through the compound like a madman, firing over his shoulder and ducking behind walls, in an attempt to escape the spray of bullets that followed him close behind.  _"There are three more coming up on your right, take the next left."_

Harry's already on it, as he ducks around the left corner and takes out the next three guards, leaping over their bodies with ease, ignoring the dull ache where a bullet snagged his shoulder. He lets out a low growling noise in his throat, which he's sure Merlin hears, because there's an answering sound of agreement that follows. 

This was  _not_ how Harry had planned this mission to go. 

This wasn't how  _Merlin_ had planned for this mission to go either. 

Simple mission, recon-at least, that's what the dossier said-a possibly compromised ambassador, which Harry confirmed, and took care of within a few hours of arriving. Being Kingsman's newest agent, he thought this as just another boring test mission, before they sent him out on more exciting ones. He hadn't of course, expected there to catch wind of a human trafficking ring that specialized in kidnapping young women and turning them into prostitutes and personal sex slaves for rich aristocrats all over the world. Something that Harry would  _never_ allow just to happen. 

So, naturally, he infiltrated the compound, put a bullet through the grand architect, Geoffrey Anderson's forehead, freed the women, and had just been on his way out, when a guard spotted one of the women running, and had sounded the alarm. Bors, who had come along as back-up, had taken the women to safety while Harry dealt with the guards. 

He just hadn't expected there to be  _so fucking many._

A bullet whizzes by close to his ear, and in one swift movement, Harry grabs hold of the man running at him, stuns him with his signet ring, then uses his body to shield him from the oncoming bullets behind him, and pivots them around to empty his magazine into the other three. When his personal shield falls to the ground, he shoots him with his own gun, and smiles at the now empty hallway. He's quite proud of himself, and takes only a second to survey his work (while Merlin utters a faint  _Jesus Christ_ in his ear), before turning to run. 

"Merlin, where do I go now?" 

 _"The next right, then-No, wait, Galahad, I'm picking up another heat signature in one of the neighboring rooms."_ Merlin answers, followed by the sounds of his fingers flying across the keyboard.  _"It's not a guard."_

Harry frowns. "Another hostage?"

_"Most likely. Galahad, you might not have time-"_

"I'm not leaving any hostage behind, Merlin." Harry replies forcefully, gritting his teeth. "Now tell me where to go."

Merlin doesn't even miss a beat. _"There's a staircase to your left, take it to the third floor, and the first door on your left should be a bedroom. That's where the signature is coming from. There aren't any guards, you should be safe, but whatever you do_ , don't let your guard down."

Harry doesn't even take the time to answer before he's flying up the stairs, gun lowered but ready, and kicks the door to the woman's bedroom open. 

Except, it isn't a woman. 

Suddenly, Harry feels sick.

"Merlin..." He mutters as the little girl, no older than eight, stares up at him with terrified eyes as she clutches a worn teddy bear to her chest. 

 _"Jesus Christ, the pig."_ Merlin growls in his ear.  _"No wonder he kept her here."_

Harry tries not to retch. 

The little girl looks taken care of, her wavy red hair let loose over her shoulders, and her nightgown looks clean, though the haunted look in her eyes sets a burning fire under Harry's skin, and he takes a step towards her before dropping down onto one knee. "Hello." He says quietly, not wanting to scare her. 

The little girl blinks at him. "Are you the police?" She whispers in a sugary sweet American accent, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that she recognizes him as a good guy. 

"Something like that." 

She nods, and her eyes dart over his shoulder briefly before they come back to him. "Mr. Anderson said if I tried to call for help, he'd hurt me real bad." 

Harry grits his teeth, and thinks of how quickly he killed Geoffrey Anderson, and decides that he died too quick. "Well," He says slowly. "I'm here, so Mr. Anderson can't hurt you anymore." He says. 

"Did you kill him?" She asks. 

He pauses, debating whether to tell her or not. "Yes." 

Thank his lucky stars, the little girl looks relieved. And yes, Geoffrey Anderson  _definitely_ died too quickly. 

"What's your name? And not the one he gave you," He adds, remembering that none of the women were allowed to keep their birth names. "The one your parents gave you." 

Her eyes light up, and she shyly covers the lower part of her face in her teddy bear, like she doesn't want Harry to see that she's smiling. "Molly." 

Harry smiles sweetly at her, and holds out his hand. "Well, Miss. Molly, looks like we need to get you home then, yes? I think your mummy and daddy will be very happy to see you." 

This time, she doesn't even bother to hide her smile, and Harry wastes no time in scooping her up in his arms to take her away from this awful place. 

The two make it almost to the double doors on the outside, until Merlin signals them to know that a group of guards that are coming up behind them quickly, and Harry, with little Molly still in his arms, he has to slip around corners and fire around her to shield her from the guards, who seem to have no qualms with killing a child. Harry takes no mercy on them. He shoots them all, he tears through their pathetic squadron with six bullets and too many acrobatics, but he doesn't care.  

And just like that, once it's all over, Harry takes Molly through the front doors of the compound, where he knows Bors will be coming for him. 

 _It's all over,_ Harry thinks.

Until a man Harry recognizes as Ramsey Anderson, Geoffrey's brother, emerges from the inside of the compound and knocks him to the ground. Molly screams as she falls out of Harry's grip, and Ramsey pounces on him like a tiger, pressing his hands to Harry's throat, trying to choke him. "You killed my brother." Ramsey snarls in his face as his hands tighten around Harry's neck.

Harry reaches for the gun that had been thrown from his fingers, but Ramsey kicks it away, and punches him in the face. Harry spits blood, and Merlin is screaming in his ear, and he can feel his consciousness slipping away from him like strings that are being snipped away...

Ramsey's weight is suddenly thrown off of him, and Harry rolls off to the side, coughing and gasping for air. He sees Molly, little Molly, with her wild red hair and her nightgown stained with ash and mud, wielding a shovel large plank of wood, and he feels a burst of pride.  _Brave girl._

The moment doesn't last, because Ramsey, with his head bleeding, he lunges at the little girl, and in a nauseating half second of panic, Molly drops her plank and runs back inside the building, Ramsey right behind her. 

Harry jumps to his feet and sprints after the both of them, and finds Ramsey standing right inside the compound, Molly trapped in his arms, with a gun pressed against her temple. Harry raises his own weapon. "Do not hurt that little girl." He orders. "Just let her go." 

"Drop your fucking gun." Ramsey growls. 

"Drop yours first. Let the girl go." 

"What, so you can kill me?" 

Harry inclines his head a fraction of an inch.  _Tempting..._ He thinks, and Merlin must be a mind-reader, because a sharp  _"We need him alive!"_ is shouted in his ear. Harry resists the urge to call him a spoilsport, and turns his attention back to Ramsey. "Not that that isn't tempting, but no. I happen to need you. Let the girl go, and I'll have no reason to kill you." He says, and he means it. 

For one fleeting second, Ramsey looks like he might comply. 

Until he sneers at Harry, and points his gun toward the propane tank against the wall. 

At that moment, Merlin screams, Ramsey shoots, and the last thing Harry sees before everything is engulfed in white hot flames is the terrified, pleading look burning in the icy blue of Molly's eyes. 

**_________________**   


He wakes up in medical four days later with burns on his arms and Arthur talking about the fireproof addition to the Kingsman suits. 

Harry doesn't say a word to him or Bors, until Merlin walks in, and he asks about Molly. Merlin doesn't say anything until the other two get the hint and leave, and then, in a quiet, solemn voice, tells him that Molly Elizabeth Reed (knowing her name only hurts more) was an eight year old girl who was taken from her front yard in San Francisco, California six months prior. She had been out in her yard catching fireflies when, according to a neighbor, a car pulled up outside. Thinking it was a relative, the neighbor said nothing, until an hour later when Mrs. Reed hysterically called the police, and they began questioning everyone within visual range on the block. 

Harry remembers the case. He had heard about it on television while on a mission in Quantico a few days after it happened. 

"I should have looked for her." Harry whispers, the guilt making him dizzy and nauseous. 

Merlin sighs, and it's more out of pity than exasperation. "Harry, you couldn't have known." 

"But, I should have looked." He presses, voice wavering. "She could be alive right now, at home, with her parents, like she should be, like I..." He cuts off, and looks away, remembering the look of complete trust that she had had in her beautiful blue eyes when Harry mentioned her family, and tries very hard not to say  _like I promised._

Not like Merlin needs subtitles; he heard every word. 

The man sighs again, and suddenly, the twenty year old tech wizard looks fifty, with his eyes darkened with emotion he doesn't want to show. "It's always hard the first time you lose someone." He laments, though there's an edge to his voice, an edge that Harry doesn't like. "But you can't save everyone, Galahad. It'll do you good to remember that."

**_________________**

Harry Hart does remember that.

**_________________**

Harry Hart remembers that when he sends an anonymous bouquet of flowers to the Reed household, and pays for their oldest son's college tuition in full, for four years. 

**_________________**

Harry Hart remembers that for many years, and the next time it happens, it's a young man, a soldier named Javier who stands in front of a bullet for Harry. Harry repays him by emptying his entire magazine on the gunman. He doesn't feel any better. 

**_________________**

Harry Hart remembers that when he watches Lee Unwin jump on top of a grenade, Lee Unwin, who has a beautiful wife and a young son at home, and are already thinking about a second child. Lee Unwin, who takes one look at a grenade, and knows that Harry's life is more important than his own. Lee Unwin, who on the helicopter ride over, asks Harry over for dinner to meet his family for Christmas, knowing Harry has nowhere else to go for the holiday, other than his lonely house. "My wife is a better cook than my mother," Lee says. "Which is saying a lot, 'cause my mother could cook for gods." 

Had. Were. Took. Knew. Was. Asked. 

He tries not to think about it in present tense. He can't bear to do it, not when he's sitting on Michelle Unwin's sofa, explaining her husband's death as carefully as he can. Michelle knows what he's going to say, even before he says it, but she stays strong until he pulls out the Kingsman medal. He sees the young boy on the floor in his soft looking blue jumper, playing with a snow globe, and when he squeezes his arm, the boy gives him a look that says he trusts him, though he doesn't know him, and Harry suddenly remembers Molly too. 

He goes home that night, and as he nurses a glass of whiskey (or several), he makes a promise to do what it takes to save Eggsy Unwin, like he couldn't do with Molly, or Lancelot, or Javier, or any of the other casualties he's faced in his years as a Kingsman. 

**_________________**

The next time he loses someone, he lets himself get angry. 

He takes one look at the blue haired technician girl from the American branch who lies dead on the floor of the Kingsman safehouse where the drug smugglers they had been tracking had broken in and killed her, and lays waste to their operation. He's ruthless in his killings, he disregards his safety (which nearly gives Merlin an aneurysm), and watches the place burn to the ground. 

Sitting on the plane home, he feels better than he has in years. 

**_________________**

At fifty, Harry Hart has lost most of his sense for overkill and revenge killings, until, of course, James dies. 

He takes his rage out on Dean Anthony Baker's goons after they call Eggsy Unwin a rentboy, and the boy doesn't even flinch once. In fact, he seems almost in awe. Looking into Eggsy's pleading face as he promises not to tell anyone about what he saw, he sees Lee Unwin, and he makes a decision to fix what he's done to this family. 

Eggsy accepts, and Harry's heart absolutely does  _not_ flutter when he sees the look of wonder on the boy's face. 

**_________________**

Eggsy pulls on his heartstrings and make him smile for reasons he can't even begin to understand, other than he is madly, deeply, and terrifyingly in love with the boy, and whenever Merlin calls Eggsy his boy, Harry's first thought is always  _I wish._  

It's horrible and wrong, being so infatuated with a boy nearly half his age, but whenever he sees Eggsy smile, he can't help it. 

He stops trying to not fall in love with him when Eggsy comes to see him after he wakes up from his coma, and he sees the relief pulls at the corners of his eyes and how he doesn't look away from Harry for even a second, until Merlin comes in, like he's afraid he'll disappear again.

After Eggsy leaves to let Harry get ready to meet Valentine as Henry DeVere, Merlin tells him how Eggsy was there every day, sitting by Harry's side, talking to him, telling him stories about training and his mum and his little sister with such fondness, and Harry knows he's fucked. 

Apparently, Merlin knows too, because he tells him so. 

The dick. 

**________________**

Harry takes a sip of the forth (fifth? sixth? Harry's more than lost count by now) attempt at a proper martini, and looks up into Eggsy's nervously excited face with an impressed nod. "Not bad. Definitely better than your last attempt. You're improving." He praises the drink (and only the drink) by taking another sip. He should probably stop soon, he and Eggsy have spent more than an hour making drinks, and he's starting to feel the effects of alcohol in his system. Dangerously so. 

Eggsy gives him his best shit-eating grin, and takes a drink of his own martini. "I think I'm improvin' in more ways than just my drink makin' skills, bruv." The boy gloats, though it's only halfheartedly. 

"Don't call me bruv. And yes, Eggsy, I would say you have greatly improved in the last few months How was it that Roxanne put it the other day? 'Good job, Eggsy, you don't suck'? 

"Oh, I  _definitely_ suck, just not at being a spy." 

Harry pauses and stares the boy directly in the eye, a hungry, burning desire unfurling in his stomach as Eggsy blushes, but doesn't look away. Their eyes are locked for the longest time where neither of them say anything, and his eyes are drawn to where Eggsy is biting his lip, and Harry is absolutely  _not_ fantasizing about biting it for him, because that would be inappropriate, to take advantage of the boy while they were intoxicated. Instead, he mutters a low "indeed", and takes another drink to hide his smirk. 

Quite visibly, Eggsy swallows, and looks away, and it's most definitely not blatant want that he sees in the boy's eyes. 

The air is very tense for a few minutes, and Harry kicks himself mentally. He's flirting. He's fifty. He shouldn't be flirting with  _anybody,_ especially  _Eggsy,_ his  _twenty-five_ year old protégé,of all people. It wrong. It's terrible. Harry is older enough to be his father. Harry  _knew_ his father. He was the person solely responsible for getting his father killed, which makes this whole infatuation even more disgusting. 

He should stop this. All of it. Before it gets too deep. 

"Eggsy-" 

"Harry-" He says at the same time, and Eggsy blushes. "Sorry, you first."

The older agent smiles gently. "No, my boy, I've been talking all evening. Go ahead." 

He expects him to speak right away, but instead, Eggsy stays quiet, and keeps his averted. Suddenly, the air around them feels tense for a different reason. 

Harry doesn't like it. 

He frowns. "Eggsy?"

The boy looks back at him with a sad look on his face that Harry wants to wash away forever, and finally meets his eyes. "Harry... D'you really think I can do this?" He whispers to him anxiously. 

Harry startles. "Of course I do, Eggsy. Why would you ever think that I didn't?" 

Eggsy drops his gaze again, and shrugs. 

 _That won't do._ Harry reaches out and places his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Eggsy, tell me." 

Eggsy sighs again, and looks up at his mentor with eyes that seem far older than they should, and it's unlike anything that Harry has ever seen before. He's seen horrible things, but there is nothing more horrible than the look on his boy's face at this moment. And what he says next isn't any better. "No one's ever believed in me before, y'know? My dad ain't around, and I was nothin' to Dean but a nuisance, unless I was makin' him drug money. When I was in school, I was always takin' care of my mum, so I missed a lot, an' none o' them gave a shit either. Ryan and Jamal, we was all in the same shitty place where no one cared, and sometimes I even doubt my mum..." Eggsy swallows hard, and lets out a shaky breath. "I jus'... I like it. Havin' someone care 'bout me like you do. And I really want this job, Harry, I do, and you've done so much for me already, and I jus'... I don't want to let you down. 'Cause I'm a fuck up, I've always been a fuck up, and I don't want to be one anymore because I wanna be worth somethin' to someone and... I want you to be proud of me." A tear falls down Eggsy's cheek and he angrily wipes it away. 

Harry's heart falls in pieces to the pit of his stomach, leaving a gaping hole where it shattered. In that moment, he's filled with more hatred than he ever has been in his whole life, but he can't move, or even breathe. To think that Eggsy has been afraid to disappoint him this entire time weighs on him like hands are pressing down on his chest. The urge to scoop this boy into his arms and protect him from anyone who doesn't love him is so overwhelming that he has to take a moment to breathe before he answers. "Oh, _Eggsy."_  He murmurs, and he reaches out to wipe a tear off of the boy's face, and pretends that Eggsy doesn't lean into the touch. "Eggsy, I will always be proud of you. No matter what happens with Kingsman, whether you get the job or not, I will  _always_ be proud of you. And you  _are_ worth it, Eggsy, don't you ever think for a second that you aren't. You aren't a fuck up, Eggsy, you've had some tough breaks, but that does not make you a fuck up. You've had to undergo things that not a lot of people even understand, and not one of them is your fault. I don't want you to ever think that." He doesn't say what he wants to, which is  _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ but he squeezes the boy's arm, and Eggsy seems to understand. 

"You mean that?" Eggsy asks with a timid smile. 

Harry nods slowly. "Every word." He squeezes just a little tighter. "My only regret it that I was never there before to tell you so. And for that, I am so sorry." 

And Eggsy gives him a smile that could melt hearts of stone, and gives Harry no warning before throwing his arms around the older agent, and burying his face in the crook of his neck. And Harry's heart stutters. 

"Thanks Harry." He whispers, his voice hushed, and slightly shaky with emotion. 

The agent runs his hand down Eggsy's back, and smiles into his hair. "You don't need to thank me, darling." The term of endearment just comes so naturally, and he doesn't even try to regret it. He doesn't want to. 

They stand like that for a while, in each other's arms in Harry's living room, until Eggsy pulls away, and Harry gets to stare down into his eyes-his beautiful  _green_ eyes-and it that moment, Harry has never seen a more beautiful sight. Eggsy's rosy pink cheeks and his eyes the color of liquid emerald, and the scar above his eyebrow, and he looks so utterly  _stunning_ that he takes Harry's breath away, and for a moment, all he can do is think about closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Eggsy's for just a moment, to see what he tastes like, to savor him the way he deserves. But he won't. Because he is a gentleman, and gentlemen don't kiss their protégés. 

But, apparently, Eggsy doesn't care about that yet, because just as Harry's about to pull away before it becomes indecent, the boy stands up on his toes and presses his lips to Harry's, and he tastes like alcohol and the kiss is too rushed, too urgent, with too much teeth, but after months and months of pining, Harry is finally kissing Eggsy, and that's all that matters. 

Except, red lights go off in his head, telling him  _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ and Harry pushes Eggsy away, the whine that erupts from the boy's mouth damaging to his heart. "Eggsy, no, we can't." He urges, a little breathless. "It it's right."

"But I want you." Eggsy leans in to kiss him again, but Harry pushes him away. 

"Eggsy, we've both been drinking, you're not thinking clearly-"

He lets out a strangled whine. "Harry, I've made a hell of a lot o' mistakes while drunk, and you ain't one of them. 'Sides, I ain't that drunk. I want you, Harry, I have since I met you." 

Harry sighs sadly and shakes his head. "You don't get it." 

"Then explain, 'cause I know what I want." 

"Because you'll regret it in the morning."

 _That_ makes Eggsy stop. He pulls away and narrows his eyes, a mix between concern and confusion on his face. He doesn't say anything, though, giving Harry the opportunity to explain himself. 

Harry Hart is trying so hard not to fall in love with him that it physically pains him. "You'll regret it in the morning, because if we do this, that'll be it for me." He tries to ignore the way Eggsy's eyes light up as he reaches out and caresses the boy's cheek. "You, darling boy, are all I want, and once I've had you once, I won't ever want to give you up." 

"Then don't give me up." And Eggsy presses his lips back to Harry's, and for a split second, he almost pushes him away again, but, for whatever reason, whether it be the alcohol in his veins, or his overwhelming longing for Eggsy, he surrenders himself with a growl, and takes charge of the kiss, hauling them both up, backing them up against the wall where he uses his height as an advantage against the boy and kisses him like his life depends on it.

Eggsy seems to lose all conscious thought, and is already fumbling with the buttons on Harry's shirt, which sets off a predatory sense of want in the older agent, and Harry reaches down, lifts Eggsy into the air, and holds him up against the wall, savoring every needy whimper that tumbles from the boy's lips. He can feel Eggsy hard against his abdomen, and he growls hungrily. He wants to _ruin_ this boy, fuck him until he's screaming and shaking, and make him feel like no one other than Harry himself can. He wants to mark him, and make him his forever. Though, as terrific as it sounds, it isn't, however, what Harry wants on their first night together. 

Tonight, he want to show Eggsy just how much he cares for him. He wants to show Eggsy that he's worth more than he thinks. He wants to show Eggsy what he means to him. Most importantly, he wants to show Eggsy that he is loved. 

He pulls away, and Eggsy chases after him for a moment before he slams his head back onto the wall.  _"Fuck,_ Harry, why'd you stop?" He whines, panting hard. 

Harry smirks, and leans down to nip at the boy's throat. "As much as I like the idea of ruining you for anyone else-" 

"Too fuckin' late for that, bruv." 

Harry digs his fingers into Eggsy's hips for the word. "Tonight, we're doing this my way." And with that, he bites down on Eggsy'd neck, laughing to himself at the moan that follows, and he hears Eggsy practically pleading with him. 

So, he leads him upstairs, and they shed their clothes in the darkness of Harry's bedroom before collapsing in a heap on Harry's bed. Harry works him open nice and tortuously slow, so that when Harry's fingers brush his prostate, Eggsy sobs with the overwhelming pleasure behind it all. Harry doesn't even wait for the noises to die down before he pushes inside the younger man, and he lets out a soundless scream. Harry wipes the tears and sweat from his boy's face, and rocks back and forth, fucking him slowly and like he loves him, and when Eggsy starts chanting his name like a mantra, Harry uses an old skill and flips Eggsy over onto his back in one fluid motion. 

The sound Eggsy makes is incredible, and almost enough to push him over the edge. 

Harry tilts the boy's hips upwards and slams in at  _just the right angle,_ and Eggsy screams. He does it until he can't think, and he can feel Eggsy's legs trembling where they're hooked limply around his hips, and Harry wraps his hand around Eggsy's cock, presses his thumb against the head, and Eggsy's whole body arches off of the bed as he comes on Harry's hand and their stomachs, sobbing as his body trembles through the intense aftershocks. The sight is so beautiful that it pushes Harry over, and before he can even warn Eggsy, his orgasm hits him like a hurricane, and he collapses on top of the younger boy after his arms give out. 

Once he can breathe again, Harry looks over at Eggsy, and his heart weakens. Even sweaty, covered in spunk, lips red and swollen, with sex hair and a blush that colors his entire body, Eggsy Unwin is still the most beautiful thing Harry Hart has ever seen. 

"I love you." Eggsy whispers in between breathless pants. 

Harry doesn't even need to think about it. "I love you too." 

Once they can move again, Harry pads off to the bathroom and returns with a wet flannel to clean the both of them off with. It's only courteous, after all. He wipes a limp and reluctant to move Eggsy down with loving care, tosses the flannel in the clothes basket in the corner of the room, then climbs into bed. His boy moves snuggle his head in Harry's chest, and with a quiet laugh, the older agent pulls the covers around them both, then runs his hand through Eggsy's hair. He is at that moment, more happy than he could ever be, lying in bed with the boy he loves.  _Fuck what Arthur thinks,_ Harry decides. If this is what happiness is, he doesn't care what anyone thinks. 

"Harry?" Eggsy rasps, his voice thick with exhaustion. 

Harry smiles at the way he sounds in this state, so vulnerable and childlike, and Harry loves him. He loves him so much it hurts. "Yes, my love?" 

"Don't leave me, okay?" 

And Harry freezes. His body goes rigid, though Eggsy doesn't notice. He looks down at the boy in his arms, the boy he's certain is half-asleep now, because he doesn't say anything at all, and he thinks back at all of the times he's walked in and out of his life, and wonders just how long he's wanted him to stay. Anything could happen with the final test. Eggsy knows that, Harry knows that, and though all of his training shows that he could be an amazing Kingsman, there's still a chance that he won't be Lancelot. He could be, but he might not be. And then what? 

Harry won't just let him go like that. Neither will Merlin. Despite all of his bitching, Merlin has grown attached to Eggsy, just like Harry has (though not in the same way at all, though he's certain he's seen his best friend send Roxanne Morton a passing glance). If he didn't make it as an agent, Harry would make sure he stayed on as  _something._ He wouldn't just let Eggsy go. Not in a million years.

But, at the same time, this was a dangerous job. A very dangerous job. Harry's got his own fair share of scars and near-death experiences under his belt, enough for a lifetime, and he's getting older every day. Merlin thinks he's reckless, and sometimes he has to be, but Harry knows that there's a price to pay for recklessness. The thought of leaving Eggsy behind like that, like his father did... 

Harry tightens his grip on the boy and kisses his forehead. It's not something he wants to think about. "I won't. Not if I can help it." 

Eggsy sighs, and smiles against Harry's chest. 

They both sleep soundly that night. 

**_________________**

The next morning, they make breakfast together and kiss over the table like a couple of teenagers while they eat and watch the news. With nowhere to be until later that night, they take a shower together, where Harry fucks him against the wall like he wanted last night, adding a few new lovebites to the collection on Eggsy's neck. Getting dressed takes twice as long, because Harry finds out that Eggsy, in fact, is quite ticklish, and he uses that to his advantage, making the boy laugh until there are tears streaming down his cheeks, and only stops when a pillow hit him in the face. 

It's all perfect, and Harry think he could get used to domestic bliss. 

**_________________**

Harry Hart always gives his recruits Kingsman issued suits. It's a tradition of his. Every candidate he's ever had (there's honestly only been a handful), whether they became Kingsman or not, have always been gifted a bespoke suit. Lee Unwin was the only one that never received his, because he died before it was finished. Leodegrance and Dagonet both tried to give Lee's suit to him after it was finished, but he couldn't accept it, nor did he. It wasn't his to keep. 

Eggsy deserves a suit. A good one. One that's his. One that his father would be proud to see him wear. 

The walk to the shop is wonderful, full of banter and laughter, and their hands are clasped between them the entire time. Eggsy has no idea what's in store for him, but Harry can tell under the suave, velvety cool he puts on display that the boy is bubbling with puppy-like energy the whole way, and Harry finds it equal parts amusing and just so fucking  _adorable_ that he might possibly die before they even reach Saville Row. 

Leodegrance gives him a knowing smile when they arrive in shop, and he avoids it by dragging Eggsy off to the Kingsman armory behind Fitting Room Three. He's having fun showing Eggsy this side of his world. It's freeing. And of course, he can't stop imagining how fuckable Eggsy will look in his bespoke suit. In his head, after measurements, he decides to show Eggsy the upstairs of the shop, where the "Dining Room" is, and some of the other hidden features of the shop, then lunch at this wonderful little cafe he's come to adore, and it all seems to be a perfect end to their twenty four hours together. 

That is, until Richmond Valentine steps out of Fitting Room One. The man gets too close to Eggsy for Harry's liking, and he tries not to growl when he shakes his hand, and absolutely does  _not_ like how Gazelle seems to be eating Eggsy up with her eyes. He doesn't like it at all. 

He hates to cut their time together short, but he needs to, so, with a quick kiss on the boy's forehead, a promise to make it up to him later, and a request that the others look after him, Harry leaves the shop, and follows Valentine out. 

On the way there, Leodegrance texts him to ask what color he'd prefer to see Eggsy's suit, and for whatever reason, without hesitation, Harry tells them blue. 

**_________________**

Eggsy doesn't shoot his dog. 

He doesn't shoot his dog, then he steals Arthur's car, and Harry is so angry with him that he can't even think straight before he's controlling the cab to come directly to his house, and he and Eggsy fight in the loo with Mr. Pickle laying witness to their angry, hurtful exchange. 

Eggsy cuts him deep. 

Harry cuts him deeper. 

With one sentence, he sees the strong façade fall, and the sad little boy who begged him not to leave comes out.

Harry doesn't care. 

He's angry. He's hurt. He's disappointed. 

He's always been a vengeful man. 

He tells Eggsy to stay where he is, and he boards the plane for Kentucky, anger boiling his blood the whole flight. 

**_________________**

He doesn't think about Eggsy again until he's stumbling out of the church, blood on his face and hands, and he sees Valentine standing there with a sick sort of smile on his face, and a terrifying knowing washing over him. 

His last thought before Valentine raised his gun is the way that Eggsy looked when he left, and how his boy will always think that Harry died being disappointed in him, and if he could, he would go back and hold the boy in his arms, tell him that it was okay that he didn't shoot the dog, because Harry would fix it. If he could go back, he would hold Eggsy in his arms, and tell him how much he loved him. 

Harry Hart hates the color blue. The endless blue of the Kentucky sky is the last thing he sees before Valentine's bullet rips though his head, and everything goes dark. 

**_________________**

Harry wakes up three days later, blinking up at the dimly lit hospital room, still groggy and feeling heavy from the drugs in his body, but awake nonetheless. There's a weight on the hospital bed near his arm, and he looks down to see Eggsy, clad in a beautiful midnight blue, Kingsman issued bespoke suit, lying in a very uncomfortable position half in a chair, half on Harry's bed with his head buried in his arms. Harry's heart flutters at the sight of him. He's just as beautiful as he is in his dreams. 

Without thinking, he reaches out and places his hand on Eggsy's head to stroke his hair, not expecting the boy to be awake. His head snaps up, and he locks eyes with Harry for only a second before he's up and running out the door, yelling for the nurses instead of using the call button. The doctors and nurses flood in, and the ask him questions, all while Eggsy sits in the chair with his knees brought up, biting at his nails nervously, which makes Harry frown. 

But it's not only the nail biting that bothers him; it's the red puffiness of Eggsy's eyes that says he was crying while Harry slept, or the dark circles under his eyes that indicate that he hasn't slept for a while, or the way he looks like he hasn't eaten either that bothers Harry so. His boy looks terrible, and it churns in Harry's gut. 

"You're an arsehole, you know?" Eggsy says once the doctors leave. 

Harry isn't offended, he deserves that one. 

"You're a liar too." 

That makes Harry look up at him, and he sees tears welling up again in the boy's eyes. He swallows hard. "What did I lie about?" He asks quietly. 

Eggsy bites his lip. "You promised you'd never leave me if you could help it, then you walked out on me. Actually, you walked out on me _and_ got yourself shot, so you're an arsehole for that too."

The older agent tries not to flinch. "Eggsy-" He tries. 

"No." The boy growls, the venom behind his glare something too close to hatred for Harry to feel anything but guilty. "You can't just keep doin' this, Harry. You were out for most of training, which was hard enough, then you come back and tell me all of the things I've needed to hear for years, you make me feel special, you make me feel important, like I'm not a waste of air, and after everything, you told me you loved me, and I thought..." He trails off and looks away, but Harry sees the tear that falls down onto the floor in between them. 

Harry's heart hurts. "Oh, _Eggsy._ " He murmurs. 

"I thought you were dead, Harry." Eggsy rasps, voice breaking, but still not meeting Harry's eyes. "You said you were coming back, and then you didn't, and I thought you were dead."He angrily wipes at the tears on his face, and the knowledge that  _he_ put that look on Eggsy's face hurts more than any gunshot wound could. 

"Eggsy, come here." Harry says gently, reaching for the boy. 

The boy makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a sob, and in a flash, climbs up onto the hospital bed besides Harry, being mindful of his wires, and buries his face in Harry's chest. His body is shaking against Harry's skin when he wraps his arms around the boy's shoulders. "Harry, I'm so-"

"No, Eggsy, it's me who should be sorry." He tells him, wiping tears away from the boy's face with his fingertips. "I should have never been so cruel to you. It was unfair of me to expect something of you that was not in your nature, and even more so to become angry with you for it. And then for me to leave you in the way I did... I am so, so sorry, darling." Harry presses his lips to Eggsy's forehead, and holds him close. "Can you ever forgive me?" 

The younger agent nods and wipes his tears away. "I forgave you the minute Merlin said you was alive." He answers with a sheepish smile. 

Harry's heart warms. 

Then, the tiny smile grows into a cheeky, signature Eggsy Unwin smirk, and Harry knows he's in trouble. "But, I'm going to be the biggest tease for the next few weeks while you're healin'. You're probably gonna die of blue balls before then." And with that, Eggsy kisses him passionately until his heart monitor spikes and the nurses come running. Eggsy moves to the chair after that, where he smirks at Harry all the whole. 

 _Someday,_ Harry thinks.  _I'm going to fuck the cheek right out of him._

**_________________**

Recovery is a long process. 

It's physical therapy, psychiatric therapy (to make sure the takeover didn't scramble his brain), headaches, a short temper, a promotion to Arthur's seat (which isn't all bad), Eggsy becoming Galahad (which is nothing less than amazing), confined bed rest for three months, minimal desk work for another three, and no field missions for another six months on top of that, a world in shambles, which leads to more headaches and more shortness, and above all, Eggsy's never ending patience and support every step of the way. Eggsy's cheek and loyalty and occasional spontaneity is a much needed and longed for constant that puts a smile on his face, and helps him get through the day.

(Plus, the reunion, 'I thought I lost you' make up sex mixed with the 'You're a filthy little tart, how dare you tease me for six weeks straight" sex is mind blowing, and Eggsy had to call in the next day, which Harry was quite proud of, thank you very much.)

They move in together shortly afterwards, Michelle Unwin (who surprisingly enough doesn't hate him) and little Daisy Unwin take up Eggsy's given house, where Eggsy moves into Harry's. It's perfect and domestic and beautiful, and it's all that Harry wants. 

It's not all raindrops on roses and sunshine, however. Not even a little. 

He has nightmares. Terrible ones. A lot of nights, he dreams of the church, of all the people he killed, and the look of Valentine's gun as it glints in the hot Kentucky sun. Some nights, however, when the universe is extremely cruel, he dreams of the church, but in a reality where he took Eggsy along with him as his first official test as a Kingsman, and right before he comes out of his daze, he shoots Eggsy in the chest, watches him fall to the floor, and like a light switch, he becomes Harry again, and the first thing he sees is Eggsy on the floor of the church, bleeding heavily, choking, coughing, and Harry cradles him in his arms, begging him not to close his eyes, begging him not to leave him, he watches as the life drains from Eggsy's face. 

On those nights, he wakes up screaming. 

And every night, Eggsy is still there. He lets Harry hold him like he's the only thing keeping him grounded, he lets Harry babble like a moron and check the boy's body for injuries that aren't there because  _he has to be sure,_ and most importantly, he lets Harry cry. 

It takes him a while to tell Eggsy about his nightmare, but when he finally does one night, one year to the day of the church incident, the boy doesn't pity him. Instead, he takes Harry's trembling hand, and presses it firmly to his chest, right over his heart, and allows Harry to feel his Eggsy's heartbeat under his fingertips, to let him know that he's really there. To let him know that he's alive. After a good solid minute of Harry checking Eggsy's heartbeat, and tearing up because the sound is so beautiful, Harry looks up at Eggsy's smiling face, and knows that they're okay. 

A few nights later, when Harry asks Eggsy to marry him, Eggsy's beautiful eyes that shine like pure liquid emerald, tear up and the boy doesn't even bother to hide it, and neither does Harry after the boy says yes. 

Harry doesn't like the color blue. 

But he is so damn lucky that Eggsy's eyes are green. 


End file.
